


Touch My World With Your Fingertips

by CadetDru



Series: Who Wants To Live Forever [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, M/M, The Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CadetDru/pseuds/CadetDru
Summary: The Arrangement meant that Crowley got to be Good sometimes, Aziraphale got to be Bad sometimes (without Falling, never Falling, his hair would burn away faster than his wings), and the both of them had an excuse to keep in touch while also decreasing their workload. Of every idea that he had devised on Earth, it was Crowley's greatest triumph. It wouldn't end until the world ended, which was nearing with each day.  The devastation of war made that all too obvious.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Who Wants To Live Forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591672
Kudos: 25





	1. One Sweet Moment Set Aside For Us

The Arrangement meant that Crowley got to be Good sometimes, Aziraphale got to be Bad sometimes (without Falling, never Falling, his hair would burn away faster than his wings), and the both of them had an excuse to keep in touch while also decreasing their workload. Of every idea that he had devised on Earth, it was Crowley's greatest triumph. It wouldn't end until the world ended, which was nearing with each day. The devastation of war made that all too obvious. 

That was why he had to come to Aziraphale's rescue. Aziraphale came to his, from time to time, in smaller ways. Aziraphale just got himself into bigger trouble. Aziraphale was trying to keep this latest war from hurting too many people, trying to thwart hell and humanity at the same time. 

There wasn't an angelic or demonic conversion for consecrated ground and holy water. An angel could withstand anything like it on Earth. An angel could walk into a church with no problem. A demon could justify it by explaining that the church itself was converted to unconsecrated rubble, thanks to the bombs being rerouted. Crowley could claim anything if it meant he had kept Aziraphale safe and sound. He could find the right words. To explain it all away.

Aziraphale had his books, which made him radiate the kind of angelic love that Crowley wasn't supposed to be able to see. It was brighter that night than Crowley had ever seen it before. That was the part that Hell could not know. (When Crowley went back to the church to take a souvenir, it didn't burn a bit since the consecration was long scorched away.) 

"I forgot the books," Aziraphale said, in the passenger seat of Crowley's car. They were leaving the most recent rubble behind. 

"Lucky thing I remembered," Crowley said. Aziraphale had walked into an ambush, while Crowley had walked into his own private scenario of saving his beloved from himself. Crowley had been able to focus on the books. 

"You're my good luck charm, I suppose," Aziraphale said primly. He wasn't thanking Crowley, which Crowley appreciated. It didn't have to be a whole conversation every time, even if lying to Aziraphale helped him practice lying to Hell. "Every lucky thing that happens to me seems to be when you just happen to be around," Aziraphale added, with a side glance that Crowley was supposed to see.

Crowley made a breath sound like an almost-word. It wasn't anyone's business, not even Aziraphale's, how close of an eye Crowley kept on his angel. Aziraphale would remain safe as long as Crowley remained aware of him. 

"I should keep you in my pocket, on my watch chain. It would save you the trouble of finding the right area to be in."

"What, the right area being your pocket?"

"My general vicinity, but I think my waistcoat pocket would work better for your purposes."

Crowley didn't need to breathe, so he didn't immediately crash the Bentley. He didn't crash it at all, bringing it to a gentle stop outside the bookshop. 

"Since you won't fit in my pocket, can I invite you in for a drink?"

A drink was safe, was social. But Heaven and Hell could be watching. But Crowley's feet hurt. But the love radiating from Aziraphale was so intense it hurt Crowley just to look at him. 

Crowley's rescues hadn't gone unnoticed, Aziraphale noticed them every time. Crowley's intentions were starting to register now, too. Aziraphale could Fall if he fell in love with a demon. Crowley couldn't let Aziraphale fall.

"Did it hurt that badly?"

"No! I mean, yes. I mean..."

They had drank together in the past without anyone falling too hard. They'd just withstood a direct bombing. A drink wouldn't kill Crowley, wouldn't condemn pure Aziraphale to Hell.


	2. Touch My Tears With Your Lips

Crowley followed Aziraphale into the bookshop. Aziraphale was metaphorically humming and glowing with love and relief and self-satisfaction. The Nazis had been killed, his books had been safe, and he'd been played for a sucker. Of course he'd want to simultaneously celebrate and drown his sorrows with the nearest friend he had. They were friends, after all. Even if they had to pretend like they weren't, sometimes, to maintain what sanity they had. 

"Good will always triumph," he told Crowley as he poured their drinks in the backroom.

Crowley didn't have the heart to argue. He just wanted to curl up and be a small silver charm, suitable for hanging in Aziraphale's pocket. He wanted to sleep for ten years. The latter was an achievable option. He could physically do the former, but Aziraphale never would let him rest.

"Have you ever desperately wanted to say something but just not found the right words?"

"No." Crowley emptied his drink. "Never."

"Liar," Aziraphale scolded. "I mean, wanted to express an emotion that... that humans couldn't comprehend, so their speech can't properly describe?"

"My answer is still no."

"I almost lost all hope tonight," Aziraphale said. "If you hadn't come along, if I'd lost this form, I wouldn't have come back until after all of this was over, potentially until after it all was over."

"Don't thank me."

"I won't," Aziraphale said. "I just... even with those three dying, I still had the great sensation that all can be redeemed with Her love."

Crowley held out his empty glass to be refilled. He didn't breathe. He hadn't breathed much since Aziraphale made his joking suggestion.

"Where are you off to?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley hadn't said a thing about leaving, hadn't given it a thought.

"Paris," Crowley said. "Just need to make the rounds." He was going to sleep until this war and possibly the next was done with, if he could. 

"I'll make my own luck in your absence. When this war is over, we can have another drink."


End file.
